


Breaking Point

by Lillielle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel Wings Are Hot, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer only appears in flashbacks, M/M, Making Out, Multi, Oral Sex, PTSD, Sam's not doing so well, Threesome - M/M/M, Warning: Incest, Wincestiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 04:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillielle/pseuds/Lillielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(I of course own nothing from Supernatural.) A/U. Sam's mind has technically healed, but he's still not doing so well. Also, smut. Set at some point when things are relatively calm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Point

It's not real, of course, and he knows it's not real, but that still doesn't stop the catch in the back of his throat or the way his hands tremble. Or the desperate, pleading whine he presses his lips together to stop, when he sees Lucifer sitting so casually on the side of his bed, flipping through a magazine.

When Castiel healed him, the hallucinations went away...for the most part. They still come though, every once in a while. Just when Sam thinks they are finally over and done with, that he can move on, he sees him again, taunting him, whispering slick, dark secrets in his ear. Remember Hell, Sammy? Remember your screams? Sometimes he swears he can smell the flames reaching for him, the sulphur burning his nostrils.

Dean can tell. He always can and suddenly his arms are around Sam, his low voice rumbling in Sam's ear that whatever he's seeing, it's not real. It's over and done with, it's in the past, and Lucifer vanished like a popped soap bubble, leaving behind not even a wrinkle in the bedspread. It's over, but for Sam, it will never be over.

Dean's out of his depth. Sam can tell it in the way his eyes turn dark with frustration, the way he scrubs his hands over his hair. They had all thought it would be fixed when Cas took on Sam's...insanity, so to speak. And it had been--for a while. 

But then the nightmares began again, and the flashbacks. And these stupid, brief hallucinations.

Post-traumatic stress disorder. Sam had always loved to read, to research, and that was the only thing that fit his symptoms. Problem was, there was no cure. No easy one, at least. And he couldn't go and talk to a therapist. Any psychologist who heard  _why_ he had PTSD would immediately check him into the nearest mental hospital. They would assume he was psychotic, delusional. He'd had enough of that. Enough assumptions, enough pointing fingers and whispered murmurs. The stares burning into his skin like the flames had licked at his bare flesh. A sort of Hell on Earth, perhaps.

Sam blinks, feeling the tears sting his eyes, and suddenly, Cas is there, too. Their angel in a trench coat, looking solemn as always, peering down into Sam's face. He looks slightly rumpled, his hair sticking up in dark spikes. 

"Sam?" Castiel asks and Sam looks up, into the angel's dark blue eyes. They calm him instantly. They always have. The smooth green glass of Dean's eyes and the polished deep blue of Cas's never fail to soothe Sam. They are so different from Lucifer's, from the bright red and orange flickers of fire. They are the eyes of the men he loves, and so Sam sags between the two, letting them catch him, cherish him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. He doesn't even know what he's apologizing for anymore. Except being himself. So broken, so lost. He feels ashamed of himself. Dean's been to Hell, too, after all. Dean and Cas just barely escaped Purgatory a couple of months ago. He's been top-side, unharmed, "fine." Why is he the most broken Winchester?

But he can't think anymore because Cas is kissing him gently, slowly, still full of uncertainty after all these months. He can't believe it's only been a few months since they've been together this way. Dean's fingers feather down his spine and he shivers. The horror of the hallucination, the flashback, being pushed aside by love, affection, and a slowly but surely kindling lust.

Sam moans into Cas's mouth, his hands coming up and clutching the man's shoulders, digging into the sturdy fabric of his trench coat. Dean presses open-mouthed, nipping kisses to the back of his neck, gently sucking and biting on the smooth, tanned skin. It's not fair, his brother knows all his weak spots, he thinks dimly as his knees sag, and he is pressed back against the bed.

Dean and Sam were always close, but they'd never taken that final intimate step until Castiel's walls had crumbled and they'd discovered the angel liked them. Liked them both. And had no idea what to do about it. What could they do but show him? And it had grown from there, blossomed into this strange yet perfect threesome. They rarely had sex without all three of them tangled together in a languourous press of limbs, the light bulbs flickering from Cas losing control. His Grace may be diminished, but that never changed. Or the quicksilver flash of his wings expanding from his body, usually managing to knock over a lamp or in one memorable occasion, the table.

But Sam can't think anymore as Cas is still kissing him, and Dean's unbuttoning his shirt, and the interplay is driving him mad. His hips involuntarily snap up, rocking his brother a bit, who is straddling his lap fully-clothed.

"Hurry," Sam mumbles into Cas's mouth, and the angel shares a chuckle with Dean, before Cas snaps his fingers and their clothes are gone, piled neatly on the bureau. Sam stares wide-eyed for a moment as Cas sits up a bit, a proud smile coming across his face. He's like a child sometimes, he really is, always wanting their approval so badly, preening shyly. It's adorable and honoring at the same time.

"Well, that makes things easier," Dean says dryly, running his hands down the planes of his brother's body, drawing a gasp from Sam when his fingers brush against the head of his cock.

"Yes," Cas replies, still sounding proud and looking preciously smug. If Sam could move, he would kiss that smirk off the angel's lips, but he can't, not anymore, when Dean's slid down the bed and taken his dick in his mouth. He will never get used to this, Sam thinks, dazed, as his hand slips down and tangles in his brother's short hair, directing him, bobbing his head up and down as he licks and sucks and caresses, his mouth driving Sam insane, and the glint in his eyes letting Sam know that he knows it. Knows it and is enjoying every fucking second.

Sam closes his eyes, huffing pants escaping his throat, and suddenly, something is prodding almost hesitantly at the corner of his mouth. Sam's lips curl into a grin as he opens his mouth further, encouraging Cas to mouth-fuck him. It's been something they've been trying to encourage the angel to do for almost a week, but he's been too nervous, awkwardly fumbling around at the thought of requesting a blowjob in this manner. This deliciously forward manner. Sam's tongue explores the smooth, slippery head, tasting the pre-come that wells up in thick, nearly clear droplets. They taste so good, he can't help but lick them all up, encouraging more with deft flicks of his tongue and the swift pull of his lips. Cas tastes like, well,  _Cas_ , a smoky, spicy sort of taste that Sam craves, that both the brothers crave, and he sucks Cas off in a desperate, sloppy sort of rhythm, nearly mirroring what Dean is doing to him down below.

Fingers slick and cold with lube prod at him and he spread his legs wider, feeling Dean slide his middle finger slowly into his ass, then his index. After months, opening him up doesn't take long anymore, and Sam's moans spill out around the cock in his mouth as Dean scissors his fingers a bit, adding a third after a few minutes, somehow his mouth never letting up on Sam's cock.

"Ready, Sammy?" Dean asks, pulling his lips off Sam's dick with a wet pop that makes Sam's stomach muscles tighten in desire.

"It's Sam, you jerk," Sam mumbles, but manages to nod his head in assent. Cas shifts around a bit, the tip of his cock coming out of Sam's mouth and spreading a shiny trail of pre-come across his chin. But Sam realizes why he has done so (sucking contentedly and heatedly on the angel's dick once more) when he sees that his shifted position will allow him to kiss Dean, to make out with him above Sam while they fuck.

Dean's already lubed his cock with a few short, swift strokes and then Sam's knees are up, pushed outward, and Dean is sliding slowly, ever so slowly into him. And it hurts a bit, at first, like it always does, but then it feels  _so_ fucking good, and Sam wonders at how lucky he is, to have his brother fucking his ass, their angel fucking his face, and getting to dimly watch the two of them sloppily open-mouth kiss above him.

For a moment, Lucifer's smirking face tries to intrude, but then Dean hits that spot right  _there_ , and Sam goes slack-jawed, pleasure washing over him in steady, lapping waves, and all thoughts of Hell vanish. Dean's hand comes over his cock, jerking him off with rough, hard strokes, matching the rhythm he's established already. Cas struggling to keep up, the lights above them beginning to flicker on and off. His thrusts into Sam's mouth are becoming more erratic, the sound of his ragged breathing adding yet another layer of sweet hot arousal. Sam can barely keep up, but he doesn't have to, he just lies there and takes it, pliant and feeling half drugged with how fucking good it all feels, the smoky taste of Cas on his tongue, the rough feel of his brother's fingers around his dick, the slapping sounds of Dean's hips against him as he fucks him even harder.

"Come for me, Sammy," Dean pants, his voice so hoarse and low, the sound rumbles along Sam's nerves, hitting every sweet spot with devastating accuracy. He wants to tell Dean not to call him Sammy, but Cas's dick is still right there, sliding against his teeth every once in a while, brushing the back of his throat, and besides that, he can't resist his brother anything, and the orgasm overtakes him until his hips jerk upward and he splashes cum across Dean's hands and his own stomach, painting his skin with broad white splotches. The sight is apparently too much for both Dean and Cas, since their rhythms speed up, nearly matching and yet not, and Cas's cum spurts down Sam's throat and dribbles down each corner of his mouth, his wings snapping out and thumping gently into the wall as the lightbulb burnt out, while Dean presses himself so tightly against Sam he may as well have been molded there as his cum fills Sam with a burst of heat.

And they collapse there, Cas panting harshly in Sam's ear as he sprawls half-off the bed, his wings fading from view in that curious way they do that Sam can never quite figure out. Dean slowly pulls out and stretches out next to Sam, cuddling his brother roughly to him and pressing a slightly too hard kiss to his neck.

"Cas, get up here before you fall off," Dean orders gruffly. Sam bites back the snort as Cas unsteadily crawls up, his hands too warm and yet just right against Sam's side as the two sandwich him between them. Safe. Always safe, and Sam lets himself give into the lassitude that always overcomes him after a session with Dean and Castiel, and sleep.

And this time, he knows his sleep will be dreamless.


End file.
